Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well I have a cell phone and an iPod, but those take money rather than give. Criminal Minds, it's characters and all that hoopla, remain the property of CBS, and whoever else has all the money. If I did own it, I would change nothing, because I love the show.

AN: I would like to thank you for reading this. Of course I would love a review, but if you don't want to give me that's fine.

Rain fell down around his shoulders, dripping down the upturned collar of his FBI SWAT gear, and making him cold. The overcast sky offered them no lights, and they knew that going into the building all canons firing, Emily didn't stand a chance. Aaron Hotchner slammed his gloved fist against the red brick wall beside him, silently cursing. He had been secretly in love with her for some time, yet he'd never said anything. Nothing, not a word, and now he stands to lose her.

The things he admired most about her were the things he hated most about her, were currently the things he hated most, her pride, her arrogance, her independence, her protective side, which strongly represented his own traits at this moment. Usually he loved to think of these as her virtues, but as he had watched her shove the last victim away, and be dragged by the unsub into a van and drove off. It had been three days since she'd been gone, and it had taken three days to track him to this building, but finally they had made the call to go in.

"Teams 3, 4, 5 and 6, get ready to move in." The voice of the SWAT leader came over his ear piece and he raised his gun and got ready to move. They had turned down the building on the outside, but the inside was an 86 thousand square foot building, with three levels, 200 rooms, and an infinite duct system. Somewhere inside with a man, who had killed 76 people, was the woman he loved.

His team leader made the motions to move. Just before they started moving he said over the intercom, "Remember, he won't be afraid to stand up to you. His ultimate fantasy is suicide by cop. Also one of my agents is in there, please act accordingly. From here on out, radio silence is to be observed." Fifty people voiced their consent, and his earpiece went silent, echoing the silence in his heart. Not one person escaped this man in the 20 years he'd been killing, and hope was a feeling that he was missing right now. He wanted, no needed, to get Emily back, if only to have her safe in his sight once more.

They were moving, as were the other 9 teams of five. All silently sweeping the building, looking for a sociopath who would more than likely kill someone before allowing himself to be killed, or who would try to take as many with him as possible, in a blaze of bullets. Hotch hoped he could kill the man himself.

Methodically they moved, silently sweeping room after room, making a lot of ground, but even after fifteen minutes, and having meat up with another of the teams, and becoming one, they still hadn't found her. The absence of hope was eating him alive, and the longer that they went without finding her was slowly squeezing his heart in a vice grip, almost constricting his breathing. He would tell her that he loved her, that he couldn't live without her, and that he simply wanted to keep her safe.

His team leader's fist shot into the air, indicating that they should stop. He tensed; allowing a small spark of hope to flare in him, a small amount of pressure was released off of his heart, allowing him to breathe a little more easily. Simply because he'd been told to stop, he wondered what would happen if he actually saw her. The small voice inside his head told him to tamper it down, that feeling that hope couldn't possibly be good for him. Emily's voice floated into his head, "Hope is fine. It's false hope that kills."

The team leader made a sign for Hotch to come to the front of the time. He moved silently, keeping the line safe and quiet, so as not to alert the unsub to their position.

"Agent Hotchner." His whispered name caused him to look around, and follow the finger that was being pointed. Looking up and following the finger what he saw caused the hope to flare, and his heart to stop. Emily. She was tied to a chair, and looked as if she'd been beaten fairly badly. Her eye was swollen, and shut, a purple tinge coloring the skin around there. There was a fairly large cut on her cheek, though the cut was caked with blood, he could tell from this distance that she would need stitches.

"Okay Sergeant Holt, take us to her, but I am moving in second to go straight for my agent." The only confirmation he got was a nod, and they started moving. The closer they got, the better he could see Emily. She wasn't moving, and suddenly he couldn't breathe again. The urge to run to her was overwhelming, but he reined it in. They stopped just outside the door, and suddenly he felt his body relax, a flood of endorphins moved through his body, and he was ready to shoot someone.

Holt made the motion for them to move in, and the ten people with him flooded the room. Aaron never took his eyes off of Emily, noticing that she hadn't moved, even though ten men had barged into the room, yelling and holding guns. Breaking protocol he moved straight to Emily, and covered her.

Suddenly a voice in his ear was shouting, and the vice on his heart was released a little. "Suspect down, we need an ambulance here immediately. Officer down. I repeat, Office Down."

Kneeling in front of Emily, he holstered his gun, and removed his helmet, calling her name a few times.

Placing his softly on her cheek, he winced at the cut, when he lifted her head, the cut opened, and a small trail of blood trickled down her cheek, causing his heart to ache. Being in love sucked when the woman was lying broken in your arms.

"Emily. It's Aaron. Can you hear me?" The people moving around him, still held their guns, and were pointing them at the unsub, who stood smiling at them.

"Aaron?" Her voice was dry and scratched, soft and very worn down. It broke his heart that she sounded that way, didn't like that she looked like she was a victim. He didn't like to see his team as victims. He'd been the victim once, and he didn't like that either. However, when it was his team he felt responsible. They were his team, his family, and he tried to do all that he could to protect them.

"Yes Emily. Aaron." His voice cracked. He tried to protect them, but every so often he failed. More than hating being a victim, he hated failing. As he knelt in front of Emily cutting off the plastic ties that bound her wrists together, he knew that he was both a victim and a failure in this instance.

"Aaron. Can you get me out of here please?" Her voice had regained some of its spunk, and he couldn't help but oblige her wishes.

"Can you walk, or do you need my help?" He looked at her, and sighed. The hope that had sprung into his heart, flared again. She would be all right. Physically at least. He knew that her nightmares would last a long time. If you're on this job long enough, as both of them had been, nightmares were common. It was worse when they were from your own memory and experience, but a nightmare was a nightmare.

"I dunno." He laughed again, and moved closer to her.

"Put your arms around my neck, and I'll carry you." Her small arms slipped around his neck, and she placed her head on his shoulder. Her forehead rested against his neck, and as he slipped his hands around her body, and took her weight, he was shocked to find he liked holding her close to him.

"Sergeant, we are moving out." The words were said over his back, and he vaguely heard the order for one of the other agents to follow them.

"I'll keep you safe." He whispered the words, hoping beyond all hope, that he could keep the whispered promise.

CRIMINALMINDSPOVSHIFT

Emily Prentiss didn't know how long she had been tied to a chair. The man in front of her, pacing and holding a gun, didn't look at all like what she had expected. Four years on this job, and still she was amazed at the fact that she could be surprised by an unsub. It was something that the families of victims said. "Not what I was expecting." She never had an answer for them, why did she expect to have an answer for herself.

She knew the profile was right, how long had she spent talking to him, days or hours, she wasn't sure, but she knew that they were once again right. The Polaroid's of victims on the wall spoke volumes. They knew of 76 victims, but at first glance at the wall spoke to over 300 hundred. How they had missed that part of the profile she wasn't sure, but she knew that he life was probably going to end in this room.

The walls were a rusted metal of some sort, probably an old butchers shed, judging by the drains in the middle of the floor. The room was otherwise nondescript, and she didn't know where in the world she was anymore. But that didn't matter to her anymore. All she knew was that the man in front of her was a sociopath, a sadistic killer who's, been grossly underestimated by both her team, and the local police force. He was crazy, and that was a word she didn't use often. It was just so unflattering, but as he paced back and forth rambling again and again, she knew that it fit very well.

Though she was alert now, she knew that she'd been drifting in and out of consciousness, and that he was beating her. Her left eye pounded with her heartbeat, and she could hardly see out of it. Reasonably she knew it was swollen, but she couldn't reach up to feel it. The plastic ties around her wrist were too tight to allow any movement. She'd tried twist and pulling, and moving every which way for at least two hours to no avail. Her chair was bolted to the ground, so she couldn't move. He legs were left free, but he never came within kicking distance, but that didn't really matter as she couldn't get up from the chair.

Suddenly he started mumbling furiously again. Last time she had tried to talk him down, but she learned that it was a bad idea. He'd punched her until she passed out. She could handle pain, had been beaten many times before, and though he was slight of frame and stature, his punch packed quite the wallop.

She would be smart this time, leave him be, alone and crazy, mumbling about someone watching him, or being in his building. Though she knew that she wouldn't live past this experience, she wasn't about to inflict more pain on herself. She could handle a beating, more than most people, but she wouldn't inflict it upon herself if that beating could inflict death. That was one ill that couldn't be recovered from.

Though she kept quiet, and her head hung, which kept her safe thus far, he suddenly turned on her, and came down swinging. She felt the first punch land, her head explode with pain, then her vision faded to black.

"Emily?" The voice came across as if from afar. She couldn't be sure, but it sounded a lot like her boss. She tried to open her eyes but the grogginess was consuming her again and she faded back out to her sea of blackness. Again, the voice said her name, though this time it was much closer, and she felt the need to answer it.

"Yeah?" She asked weakly. Her throat hurt when she spoke. This time her eyes did open, but they were foggy, and she could hardly see who was standing in front of her.

"Emily. It's Aaron. Can you hear me?" Relief that she had never known flooded through her. She knew that she was safe now. If Aaron was here, she would live. She didn't know what happened between the time that she blacked out, and now, but her heart was screaming its thanks for him.

"Aaron?" She asked, again, her throat felt like the desert, dry and in need of hydration.

"Yes Emily. Aaron." It was as if simply hearing his voice awoke her from the grogginess that she was feeling. The plastic ties around her wrists were cut lose, and suddenly her world opened up. She looked around the room, seeing for the first time her captor in handcuffs and several other SWAT dressed people with guns. She wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms and confess her undying love for him.

Some of it had to do with the way that he had ridden into her life and saved her from the fire breathing serial killer. She could forgive him the horse and shining armour, but she knew that she had been falling in love with him for some time. It wasn't that she had chosen to. It was just part of who he was.

Feeling slightly stronger she just wanted to leave, the distorted faces of his kills staring at her was becoming too much. She knew that they would find it eventually, but she wouldn't offer her team the fact that he had taken her picture. She wanted to leave before that discovery was made.

"Aaron. Can you get me out of her please?" Though she could hardly see him for looking, Emily could have sworn that she heard him laugh a little. It was a melodious sound that she'd only heard when he was around Jack or Henry.

"Can you walk? Or do you need my help?" His voice seemed to be holding something back. The bad part of being on this team, doing this job she tended to over analyze everything. As a woman who happened to be in love with this man, she often had to catch herself from over analyzing him. Though this hitch in his voice was something entirely different, even from the times other members of the team have been in danger.

"I dunno." She didn't. She didn't know if her legs could support her, her throbbing headache didn't know if she could stand up at all.

"Put your arms around my neck and I'll carry you." She did as he asked, knowing that a free ride was something that she wouldn't turn down. Slowly she slipped her arms around his neck, loving the feeling of holding Aaron in her arms. Or rather being held in his as he slipped his arms around her. Resting her head against his shoulder, she held her forehead against the soft skin of his neck, feeling his heart beat against her swollen eye.

He spoke something, and she stopped caring. For the moment, she belonged to him as he carried her away from the room, and held her close to him. The journey out was quiet as they made their way away, the only sound were Aarons footsteps on the metal railing, and the soft ruffle of his clothes. The farther away they moved from the room in which she'd been held captive, the closer the sounds of rain that Emily could hear. Suddenly, and without warning, she felt tears spring to her eyes. Moments again she'd known that she was going to die. Had known that her life was going to end without her ever having heard the sound of rain again.

Then, the tears came faster when Aaron stopped just inside a doorframe. Rain was an understatement, it seemed as if an ocean were falling about them, there was no thunder in the air, nor any hint of lightning, but Emily needed to feel the reassurance of the rain on her skin, to fully know that she had just escaped deaths clutches.

"Go get the ambulance." The order was barked from Aarons, mouth and she felt it rumble in his chest. The feeling was intoxicating to her, and she snuggled closer to him, hoping that he would forever want to hold her like he was holding her now.

"Aaron." His head turned to her as she paused, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of fresh rain. "Take me into the rain."

"Are you sure?" He took a small step forward, but stopped himself. "It's kind of cold, and you'll get wet."

"Please." She knew that begging wasn't beneath her. She had almost died, she could survive being wet. Besides, if he was still holding her, she would have plenty of heat to keep her warm.

"Okay." He stepped into the rain, the flashing lights of the ambulance coming closer. Gently he lowered her legs until she was standing. Though he still carried most of her weight, her back was against the brick wall, and she continued to hold her arms around his neck. She could feel one of his hands on her hip, and one was on her back, holding her tightly to him.

"Thank you for coming to get me." She whispered the words right next to his ear, and she felt him shiver. She could feel his warm breath against her neck, and though she was in the rain she didn't feel a bit cold.

Emily quickly became absolutely soaked to the bone in minutes, but she didn't really care. She knew that she would be haunted by this for a long time, that her nightmare was truly just beginning, but the rain was making her feel freedom that she hadn't felt in a long while. She felt as if the pressing weight of her demise that had burdened her while she was until the watchful of a serial killer had been washed away by the rain. She'd always loved the rain, loved it even more now.

Within minutes Emily could hear the sounds of the ambulance coming closer. She knew that she would be forced to go to the hospital, and for once she wouldn't argue. She was sure she had a concussion, and that her forehead would need stitches, so she would go peacefully.

"Hey there." The EMT was a larger man, and Emily could tell that he was friendly enough by the way he spoke. "Can you get into the ambulance? Or do you need help?" He held out his hand, a gesture that she thought was sweet. She made a move to unburden herself from Aaron, but he kept a hold of her, and replied gruffly, "I'll help her."

The innocent EMT held his hands up in surrender, and Emily could see his partner moving things around inside the bus, making room for her to sit on the gurney. With Aaron supporting her, one arm around her waist the other gripping the door of the ambulance, she made her way inside, Aaron gripping her and lifting her in. She fully expected him to stay outside, but he followed her into the enclosed space, out of the rain. He looked water logged, and his dark hair was clinging to his forehead where he'd removed his helmet, blocking his eye. Without thinking she reached her arm towards him and moved the tuft out of his field of vision. The look on his face hardened, the immediately softened as she felt him slightly move into her touch.

The friendly EMT was back, putting a cuff around her arm and a thermometer in her mouth, while his partner asked her questions.

"Your name?"

She went to answer but Aaron beat her to it. "Emily Prentiss."

"Sir please let her answer." She stifled a small smile as she saw a blush tinge his cheeks. She'd never seen him blush, and she found the sight endearing.

"He's right." She started, "Emily Prentiss."

"Age?"

"35."

"Do you know where we are?"

"An ambulance."

The EMT gave her a look, and instead of a blush tingeing his cheeks, she heard Aaron made a noise that she could only akin to a giggle.

"Miami."

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Uhh..." She looked around for some help. She'd been kidnapped on a Thursday, and she didn't know how long she'd been held there. There had been no windows so she couldn't see the sun, and the only decoration he'd had was the 300 Polaroid's of victims on his wall. "I don't know."

Aaron's voice was soft, and she felt her heart speed up as he grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers. His touch was warm and welcome, she felt instantly grateful that he was present. "She's been held hostage for the last three days. I'm surprised she knew her name." Emily sighed. His voice didn't inflect surprise. It held respect and adoration, two things she knew well in her boss.

"That's perfectly understandable then."

Then there was silence in the ambulance as it made its way towards the road and away from the large warehouse. The friendly EMT kept his work on her, giving her an IV, covering her with a blanket and general medical things, but Emily couldn't help but look at Aaron. Their hands were still clasped together, and his thumb was tracing a small path on the back of her hand. The motion warming her heart, and sending tingles through her skin.

The look on her face reminded her of the time she sat over him when he was in this position. It wasn't that long ago, and she knew that his heart ached with longing for Jack, and even Haley, but the look is what made this moment different. The look she had given him them was one of more than concern and compassion for a friend. She knew that she'd been in love with him. It wasn't a short journey that she'd taken, but it had lead her to this moment, and she suspected that he reciprocated the feelings. She would never ask him, but as their eyes stayed connected, she had an inkling that it was mutual.

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